


Tripping Down Memory Lane

by InTheShadows



Series: Destiny Has Blue Eyes [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Banter, Canon Era, Crack Treated Seriously, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Good Mordred (Merlin), Magic Revealed, Merlin makes sure of that, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Random & Short, but he gets a clue real fast, head injuries don't help you make good choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 11:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20929142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: When Mordred uses his magic to save Arthur's life, obviously Merlin knows that this is a very serious situation. There shouldn't be any humor involved in it at all. But he still finds himself laughing over the absurdness of it. He just can't help himself, not when Arthur is so offended by something he should alreadyknow. (Head injuries are funny like that.)





	Tripping Down Memory Lane

**Author's Note:**

> You guys can thank Merlisten for this one. They made an offhanded comment (which I now no longer remember what it is) and this happened. Yeah, I don't know either. Merlin and Arthur kind of stole the show really.

Everything seems to stop as the gold fades from Mordred’s eyes. Nothing moves, not even Mordred himself, as he stands with his arm outstretched, stopping an attack when no one else could. Well, Merlin could have, if he had not just been thrown into a tree a moment before. Ouch. He is going to be feeling that one in the morning. And now. He is definitely feeling it now too. He grimaces as the blood he can feel trickles down his head and into his neckerchief. If he didn’t know any better he’d think a different spell was at work. 

But then he blinks and everything is moving again. Unease and betrayal fill the air as the other knights - Arthur’s inner circle - all stare at Mordred. Mordred stares back, surprise still evident in his expression. Obviously that had not been an active decision on his part. Slowly he lowers his hand, gaze darting to Arthur who is staring back incredulously, standing up from where he had fallen. Beside him is the now very dead creature they had been trying to kill. It would have killed Arthur if not for Mordred. 

Merlin stands with a grimace still on his face. He uses the tree for support because he isn’t exactly sure his legs will hold him up right now. They are a bit wobbly to be honest. And they might need a distraction to be sure, but he isn’t going to provide one by falling on his face. Arthur would never let him live it down. Never mind that Merlin has lost count of the times Arthur has lost consciousness during a fight of some kind. Just because it is useful does not make it any less ridiculous. But Arthur is a prat like that, so what does he expect? 

Arthur - who still hasn’t moved from that spot. Merlin really wishes he would. Dead or not he would really feel better about the whole thing. The farther he is from anything that can - or will - kill him that happier Merlin is. Then he has to stop an ill timed and ill borne giggle because by that standard Mordred is standing far too close as well. Right. Bad thought. Looks like this head injury is a bit worse than he thought. Ouch. 

“You have magic?” Arthur asks, voice full of betrayal and shock. The hand holding his sword flexes, gripping it tightly. 

Mordred just nods, expression giving nothing away now. 

The expression on Arthur’s face intensifies. It’s the calm before the storm, but it is building - fast. The tension in the air is so thick that not even Excalibur would be able to slice through it. He takes a step forward, but then stops as if he cannot bear to take another. The look on his face is heartbreaking. 

Or it would be, if Merlin were in his right mind. As is, with his throbbing head and bleeding wound, he finds something vaguely funny about this. He has to hold in his amusement. Just because he is thinking it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know it isn’t very ill times. It’s not affecting him _ that _ much. 

“You have magic,” Arthur repeats, voice growing louder and stronger than before. His grip on Excalibur tightens that much more. If his knuckles were visible they would likely be white from the pressure. “How dare you-” 

That’s as far as he gets before Merlin loses it. He snorts and then he coughs and then he starts giggling. _ Giggling _ of all things. But he can’t help himself. Honestly, things are just getting to be too much. There is no way Merlin is going to be able to stand here and listen to this with a straight face. He can’t. 

Of course that means he has everyone staring at _ him _ now, but that doesn’t make him stop. If anything it only makes it worse. Their expressions range from confused to concerned. Arthur especially has that furrow in his brow that means he’s worried, although he’ll never admit it. Prat. Mordred just looks as if he doesn’t know how to react to this. 

“Merlin,” Arthur begins slowly, “have you finally lost your mind?” 

Merlin shakes his head, which only makes him dizzy. He waves a hand trying to reassure everyone. From the looks they are giving him it doesn’t work. Even Mordred has decided he is more concerned than offended. He stares with those pale eyes of his. Merlin swears he can see people’s souls if he wants to. 

‘Emrys?’ he asks tentatively. Silently asking the same question Arthur had, if in a much nicer way. 

He just shakes his head again, trying to get himself under control. He has thrown the others off even more than before. No one has any idea how to react to any of this. Finally he stops and manages to gasp out. “Honestly you prat, how did you _ not _ know?” 

That really puts everyone on the wrong foot - Mordred especially. But before anyone can say anything he continues, “He _ told _ you who he was. Is your memory _ that _ bad? Just how many kids did you rescue before this? It couldn’t have been that many. And even if you had, how could you forget the creepy, if cute, boy we smuggled out of the castle?” 

And now Mordred really looks offended. 

“Sorry,” Merlin shrugs, “but you were. I mean the whole,” he waves a hand, “and the eyes and the overall intensity. Cute but you were definitely creepy.” Here he giggles again. Really he should stop talking, but he can’t seem to. 

Arthur is frowning now, looking between the two of them. “Just what are you babbling on about?” he snaps. 

“_ Mordred _,” Merlin repeats, “The little boy Uther was going to kill? The one you, me and Morgana saved? I know it was years ago, but keep up clotpole.” 

“Mordred?” Arthur frowns, clearly trying to remember before his eyes finally light up in recognition. “You mean-” 

Merlin nods. “Yes I mean. The _ druid _ \- emphasis on druid - boy. And I know not all druids are magical,” Maybe. He thinks. Or maybe they are, the way Uther went after them. Then again that is a terrible way to judge things. But really it isn’t as if anyone has ever explained any of this to him. “But seeing as how you did save him you should have known.” He pauses, looking at the way Arthur was staring at him. “Should I have reminded you?” 

Arthur throws his hands into the air, the perfect picture of exasperation. “Yes Merlin that is something you should have mentioned.” 

“Oh. Right,” he blinks, “Mordred is a druid,” he says calmly. 

Off to the side one of the knights snorts in laughter, but Merlin doesn’t turn to see who it is. Probably Gwaine. 

Arthur makes a noise deep in his throat. 

“It isn’t Mordred’s fault you have such a bad memory. Although you probably can’t help it, what with all your head injuries over the years.” The mention only reminds him of his own. Absently he reaches back and wipes some of the blood away that was dripping down his neck. It is getting rather annoying. His fingers come away covered in blood which freaks everyone out even more. 

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts far too loudly. 

Merlin winces. “Not so loud,” he complains, “I’m fine. Who’s the healer’s apprentice around here? And how many times have I checked yours? I can tell that it’s nothing serious. It looks worse than it is, with all the blood.” 

“Will you stop mentioning that,” Arthur grumbles, finally moving from his spot and coming over to stand next to him. Something in him relaxes when he does. He hadn’t been joking before, about wanting Arthur away from it. But he also sighs as soon as he starts fussing. 

“I’m _ fine _ ,” he repeats, pulling Arthur’s hand away from where it had been gently checking the wound himself, “It aches and I’m a bit off when it comes to appropriate conversation, but I’m in no danger of passing out. It only needs to be cleaned and maybe - _ maybe _\- stitched. That’s all. You’ve had worse and you’re still here.” 

“Can you heal it?” Arthur asks as he turns to Mordred. 

Merlin groans. “Stop being such a fusspot Arthur. I’m not in danger of any kind except the headache I currently have.” It’s nice to see Arthur cares, but really. 

“A fusspot?” Arthur asks, clearly offended. 

Good. “A fusspot,” he nods, “That’s the one thing no one ever mentions about you, even when they should. The king of Camelot - an insufferable fusspot.” He glares, crossing his arms to help get his point across. 

The knights are definitely laughing now and doing a poor job of hiding it. Gwaine isn’t even trying. He winks at Arthur when he turns with a glare of his own before turning his attention back to Merlin. 

“Healing is not my strong suit,” Mordred admits cautiously, glancing between the two of them. 

Merlin smiles at him reassuringly before Arthur can say anything. “Don’t worry about it. Arthur is just being dramatic.” 

“Dramatic,” Arthur huffs, “And Mordred,” he says pointedly, “don’t think I have forgotten about you.” There is something hard and stern about his expression, but it softens when Mordred ducks his head. He shifts on his feet, straightening his back. “However you did save my life. Thank you.” He awkwardly clears his throat. “We will talk when we reach the castle.” 

“Yes Sire,” Mordred says, something terribly hopeful in his eyes. 

“Arthur,” he corrects. 

“Arthur,” Mordred nods. 

Merlin rolls his eyes. Emotional range of a teaspoon - honestly. And if part of him burns with jealousy at the ease of Mordred’s confession then he pushes it down where he doesn’t have to think about it. Now is not the time. It is never the time. Instead he mutters, “Oblivious prat.” as he goes over to join the others. Time to leave. 

“I heard that,” Arthur says, much louder than necessary. 

He has to stop himself from wincing at it. “Good,” he calls back and shares a look with Gwaine. 

He throws an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and offers his support. “Don’t worry Merls, you’re still my favorite.” 

Merlin just laughs and ignores the pain echoing through his head. Time heals all wounds, no matter the type. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [These Bittersweet Memories (the Tripping Down Memory Lane Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025169) by [InTheShadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows)


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